My life can be described as tree growing from a seedling,
When young our limbs, feelings are supple and bend at will,
New limbs sprout as I shall discover life and all it holds forth,
And I as the limbs of life, grow stronger spreading outward,
As life goes on we do loose a limb or two in small storms,
I trim off useless branches to make myself a stronger tree,
Over time the limbs are balanced and provide shade, yet-
Leaves fall in autumn always returning in spring again, but-
In the prime of life much as the tree, lighting strikes me hard,
My senses and the limbs are ripped from the trunk of the tree,
Crashing to the ground, love, caring, passion, pride, affection,
In the scattered leaves, I lie broken and scarred as is the tree,
Over time, me and the tree will survive, but surgery is needed,
As for the gaping wounds on the trunk, my soul, heart will bleed,
Shall cause the both of us to wither and continue to slowly die,
Seal up the wounds, repair the damage, we must continue to grow,
Years later the knurled old tree and I are showing signs of growth,
Old scars continue to heal, new growth now appearing abundant,
Both have new buds forming limbs, the senses for me I thought lost,
Like the new leaves, I sprouted passion, love, sensuality, and hope,
The old tree and I have become weathered with age and wisdom too,
Standing tall, the limbs left shall be strong fending off powerful storms,
Our roots imbedded deeply in the foundations that we both need to live,
The tree in mother earth, and I in my heart and soul, someone to love.
